A Collection
by Shooby
Summary: Each chapter is a short, unrelated fic. Most of them focus on Fakir and Ahiru. M rating for hints, nothing graphic.
1. Chapter 1

"Study Break"

A Princess Tutu fiction written by Shooby

_A short, sweet ficlet about Fakir and Ahiru and their unspoken feelings._

Blanket Disclaimer: The characters in this fan fiction and the following fan fictions do not belong to me.

* * *

Fakir was in the library again. Except, this time, he wasn't even reading the infamous story of "The Prince and the Raven." This time, he was simply staring at the missing pages, his eyes glazed over in thoughtfulness.

"Won't you talk to me?"

Looking up from the book slowly, Fakir noticed Ahiru standing beside him, dressed in her school uniform. "About what?" he asked, his voice rough from lack of use.

Ahiru shrugged and sat beside the knight.

"Well, if you don't know, I certainly don't," Fakir scolded though his voice lacked conviction.

"You shouldn't keep it all inside," Ahiru whispered, her face averted, "You can trust me with anything you have to say."

Fakir snorted, "I trust no one."

Ahiru glanced carefully at Fakir's face, her eyes thoughtful, "But I trust you, Fakir. I know that I can tell you anything..."

"Now where did you get a stupid idea like that?" Fakir asked, his tone harsh once more.

Ahiru shrugged again and smiled, "I just know, I guess," she looked at him carefully, "Like I know that I can tell you that I believe we can help Mytho and Rue both, and I think that we make a good team." Ahiru blushed.

Fakir blushed at Ahiru's statement as well. "Well," Fakir coughed uncomfortably, "That's certainly no secret."

Ahiru's smile grew and the look she threw Fakir was of adoration, "I'm so glad."

"Ahiru, I..."

"Fakir, after this is all over, will you... well, will you dance with me? Just one time?"

Fakir smiled and stood. He was a man of logic and action, following the safest path and never allowing the lesser emotions such as affection to interfere with his plans. He was a protector, not of hearts but of the physical body. He never allowed himself to be sidetracked by such silly things as the opposite sex.

Fakir extended his hand.

"Why wait?"

Ahiru stood as well, accepting the hand offered. "I believe in you, Fakir."

Fakir nodded and pulled the little duck to his side.

"I believe in us."

And they forgot their worries for a moment as they danced, the unspoken words hovering like stars in the air.

_'I love you.' _

* * *

Author's Notes

I was actually just kind of bored while I was doing some hw, and decided, _'I wanna write a really quick Tutu fic' _

So here it is!

The following are reviews already submitted:

**Sakura Omashi**  
2006-06-11

Aw, so cute! I love FakirxAhiru! Great Job!

**Ele Goddess of Elements**  
2006-06-05

- kawaii

Ele-chan

**Love-Game**  
2006-05-10

That was good, really sweet but I hope you write more.  
Trisha

**soraluver234**  
2006-04-25

that was so cute and plz update. I love the story.


	2. Chapter 2

"Forgotten"

A Princess Tutu fiction written by Shooby

_Ahiru debates over revealing her feelings for the Prince, when she comes to a realization... and promptly forgets._

* * *

Princess Tutu's fate was a tragic one: if she were to confess her love to her prince, she would turn into a speck of light and vanish.

But, as she told Hermia-chan once, to never speak of her love would also be tragic, for love is a precious feeling that should not be hidden.

These thoughts were always on Ahiru's mind. While she danced, while she slept, while Neko-sensei berated her in front of the entire class--she could not forget her predicament.

Mytho's heart was almost completely restored, that heart currently battling against the Raven's blood that burned inside of him. Ahiru was certain, that if she could only tell Mytho of her love, that he could overcome the evil that had forced its way inside his veins.

She was also certain, however, that his heart would never be whole again if she were to confess her love and vanish.

And, besides that, she was afraid of vanishing...

She would miss ballet and her school and her friends: Pique, Lilie, Fakir...

Though, it had never occured to Ahiru before just how much she would miss Fakir.

The thought of his rare smile brought a grin to her lips. Fakir was very handsome when he smiled...

And as soon as the thought had occurred, so it had vanished.

What had she just been thinking? She had been thinking about her friends, and how she would miss them and how Pique, Lilie, and Fa-

Fakir?

Ahiru frowned.

Fakir?

Who- who did she love? Mytho? Or Fa- ?

Drosselmeyer grinned as he scratched at the paper with his quill.

"Now, now, little duck," he chided, "It's dangerous not knowing your place... or your true love."

* * *

Author's Notes:

I kind of wanted to play around with the idea that Drosselmeyer had control not only of the town, but also of the characters and their emotions. What if Ahiru was no longer in love with the Prince? I don't think that Drosselmeyer would take that chance.

This is not going to be continued. I'm in love with the idea of short, cute Fakir/Ahiru ficlettes at this time. So, hopefully, I'll be writing more.

Hope everyone is having a good summer!


	3. Chapter 3

"The Missing Piece"

A Princess Tutu fiction written by Shooby

_Fakir makes the ultimate sacrifice in this little ficlette._

* * *

It was a surprise turn of events when Ahiru suddenly found herself gathering the heart shards of not Mytho, but of Fakir.

Fakir, finding himself able to do nothing but study, and Mytho suffering so... decided that if all he could do was look things up in books, he'd look up something important--something like the forbidden power the Prince used in order to shatter his own heart.

If he was able to do nothing but die in the story, his death would at least benefit the Prince whom he served...

When his research was finally completed, and he found that he had the knowledge and the ability to extract his own heart, Fakir faltered.

Mytho would no longer suffer due to the missing pieces of his heart, and with a whole heart he would be able to defeat the Raven's blood and continue the battle within the confines of the story.

But... what of the other characters?

What of... Ahiru? Would she, Mytho having regained a heart, revert back into the form of a duck permanently?

Would he never see her again?

Though, without his heart, he would live as a lifeless doll as Mytho once had, Fakir had the feeling that Ahiru's presence would instill some sort of emotion within him... that she would have the power to make him smile, even as a puppet.

Scowling, shaking his mind free of his conflicting thoughts, Fakir picked up his sword and began the ritual that would save Mytho, and damn himself forever...

And the next day Ahiru found herself waving farewell to the Prince and the Princess as they left for their kingdom, and she began the search for heart shards once again.

The only differences being that this time she searched as herself, and this time she had no fear of confessing her love.

And that is what made all the difference.

* * *

Author's Notes:

OK, this is what I was thinking _this time_: Fakir would give anything for Mytho, so I think that if he had thought of it, he would have even given his own heart to Mytho. I'm thinking about turning this idea into a full-blown fic, but at this time I have too much going on.

Hope you've enjoyed my ficlettes, because there are more coming!

The following is a review already submitted:

MercWanderer  
2006-06-07

Oh, this is an interesting idea, Fakir repeating Mytho's tragedy.

And yes, since you asked, I think it would be a good idea to group all of your ficlets in one "story," as different chapters.

Incidently, if you want to be able to use asterisks for scene breaks, check out w dot ugcs dot caltech dot edu slash tilde merc dot shiny dot html for some tricks. Your current scenebreak, while cute, is a bit distracting. ?


	4. Chapter 4

"Pervy Ahiru"

A Princess Tutu fiction written by Shooby

_This is what happens when you have a major case of insomnia for over a week. And can't even begin to think of a creative title..._

* * *

He had waited three years. He had felt as if he would have been taking advantage of a child.

A four year difference in age felt like a lifetime to a 17 year old.

But despite her innocence, she knew better. She knew that love was not defined by age. After all... as a duck she had fallen in love with a prince. Who said that as a 13 year old girl she couldn't fall in love with a 17 year old boy?

And so while he waited, sustaining them on short kisses and brief caresses, she had fantasized.

She had imagined him touching her. Her face, her neck, her stomach, her breasts, her...

And then she would bring the image into a bright clarity as her scream was muffled by her pillow, her hands busy elsewhere.

And all the while, he had slept in his bed, thoughts of her occupying his mind and causing images to flit through his dreams.

After those three long, agonizing years, she had asked him why he had waited, even to touch himself with thoughts of her.

"I didn't want to dishonor you. It felt dirty," was his reply.

"Mmm," she responded, idly playing with a lock of his dark hair.

"What about you?" he asked, smiling at her, "Did you touch yourself while you thought about me?"

"Of course," she replied.

"And how was it?"

"Bliss," came her answer, and he smiled at her lovingly...

"Thoughts of Mytho didn't make me come even half as hard.."

* * *

Author's Notes:

I can't even remember what I was thinking at the time.


	5. Chapter 5

"Love Undone"

A Princess Tutu fiction written by Shooby

_This short ficlette revolves around the emotions after the final battle. No spoilers because I haven't seen that far into the series, therefore all of this is speculation._

* * *

Defiance, she supposed, was her greatest asset.

She was a beautiful young lady and her skill with ballet was astounding, but... none of that had mattered, ultimately.

Not even the intense love she had felt had really made that much of a difference.

It was her stubborn nature--her desire to do the opposite that was expected of her that had turned the tides. Of course, it had surprised her a great deal, as well. She had not done what she had expected of herself, either.

Fueled by love, her impetuous nature had driven her to the edge of madness... or perhaps, finally, sanity.

"You came home that day," the little duck had told her, though she could not speak the words.

"You gained my respect," the knight had smiled kindly, though no curve graced his lips.

"I recognized your love that day," the Prince had pressed soft lips upon her own that she swore were real, "and I finally understood that I returned that love."

She had wept afterward, the comforting words and smiles and kisses that did not exist weighing heavily upon her heart.

She had helped to murder her own father in a rash act of love and defiance, and regret seized hold of her heart like a vice.

"Do not regret your heroic actions," came the soft voice of Princess Tutu, "You saved the Prince, and us all, and we love you for it."

Her tears came faster.

"Weep for your fallen father," Princess Tutu laid a comforting, ghostly hand upon her shoulder, "and weep for your fallen innocence. But know that we are all standing beside you as you do so."

And she looked up, and realized for the first time that they were all standing beside her. The knight, her Prince, and... a small yellow duck, tears glittering like diamonds running down soft feathers.

"Did I do the right thing?" her voice was hoarse with crying.

"I do not know," Princess Tutu's voice was weaker, fainter.

"Did my father love me?" she couldn't help but ask.

"I do not know," her visage wavered, fading away.

"Are you leaving me?" a sob tore from her mouth as she asked the last.

"Yes," Princess Tutu gazed at the petite duck standing proudly beside the knight, "and never."

The Prince helped her to stand after Princess Tutu's figure had vanished, the pain written clearly on his face.

"You will miss her," her voice was flat, uncaring.

"Yes," was his response, and he looked at her with anguish, "But not as much as I would miss your love."

And she threw herself into his arms, and they both took what comfort the other had to give, sobbing their grief together.

And in the background, a knight walked away from the scene, a small smile playing at his lips, and a small duck clasped firmly in his arms.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Yet another fiction written at 2 AM. Maybe I should take a sleeping pill... Anyway, I just wanted to write something other than Ahiru/Fakir, so this popped into my head. Hope you enjoyed.


	6. Chapter 6

"Smile"

A Princess Tutu fiction written by Shooby

_With Mytho's returning emotions, Fakir remembers something that was lost to him long ago._

* * *

Fakir hadn't noticed when it had happened. He had been too preoccupied keeping Mytho safe. Keeping him safe from any stray and dangerous emotions.

Fakir's gruff attitude and sneering facade always managed to deter the Prince from the protective, good feelings that still plagued his mind, even without a heart to guide them. Ever since that night when Mytho had been so badly hurt, recklessly endangering himself for a mere bird, Fakir had hardened his own heart, pushing his emotions to the side as though he himself had extricated the burden from his body. Just like the Prince, the only feeling Fakir had left was his desire to protect: protect and serve Mytho.

Fakir hadn't noticed when it had happened, but he came to the realization soon enough.

The night of the festival, when Rue's jealousy had first appeared, so had something else that had been lost.

Mytho's smile.

When Fakir saw the Prince's lips turn upwards, his eyes sparkling with mirth, his own heart nearly stopped.

When had Fakir himself last smiled? When had he last felt the joy that must be coursing through Mytho's newly regained heart right at that moment?

Maybe Fakir only felt the desire to better serve his Prince by mimicking his activity, or maybe Fakir felt a stab of jealousy so profound as to affect his logical thinking later on. Or maybe Fakir felt sad, that he could not share in his Prince's smile this time, because he felt no joy in the returned shards of Mytho's heart.

Or maybe Fakir didn't know what he felt, and in that moment of uncertainty he realized that unlike Mytho, he had a heart filled with emotions that he had the power to access.

And maybe that's what made the tear slide down Fakir's cheek as he strode back toward the dormitory, determined to find what was lost so long ago:

His lost smile, laying among the ruins of his youth.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I actually wrote this a while ago... I guess I just forgot to post it. Heh heh.


	7. Chapter 7

"The Double Helix Theory"

A Princess Tutu fiction written by Shooby

_A short look into how Fakir would react while living with a duck, that was once a girl, that he had once loved. And yes... I'm conjecturing, but how could he NOT have loved Ahiru? Hmmm...?_

* * *

Ahiru giggled when Fakir brushed a stray breadcrumb from her feathers.

Well, she didn't _giggle_ per say, but she made a very cute soft quacking noise that Fakir had taken to mean that she was giggling.

He smiled indulgently. "That was a big meal. Are you sure you'll be up for dinner?"

Ahiru quacked again and promptly stuck her beak in the air, rotating her small neck as to make her look standoffish.

_'Because breadcrumbs are such a great, nutritious meal? Geez, Fakir, will you send me away if I gain a couple of ounces?' _he could hear her voice running through his head, her tenderness and his own cynicism rotating and combining and he could picture these strands of their personalities coming together to form this double helix, this foundation for a completely different person and yet these two ultimately unique individuals.

"I'm sorry, Ahiru," he gazed down at her, both their own unfulfilled wishes swelling into his eyes.

Ahiru stopped, surprised. She looked up at him, a simple gesture that Fakir could always find different interpretations from. _'Don't cry, Fakir. I'll never go away. Even if we can't talk now, I'll stay by your side, like you promised to do for me!'_

"But we can talk--" Fakir stopped himself short, leaning away from the accusatory look the duck could somehow pull off. She wasn't really talking. He was making up stories in his head.

It was difficult for Fakir to explain his imaginary conversations, especially to a simple duck, who used to be a girl he very much admired and loved, who used to be a princess. He couldn't tell her that it drove him mad the first few times he had attempted conversation with her. He would forget, naturally, that the boisterous, clumsy girl he had formed an impenetrable bond with was now a _duck. _And he would throw out comments or ideas for stories throughout the day, expecting an answer. When he turned, he was met with the melancholy face of a duck. A simple duck.

She was still looking at him like that. Sad and accusing and somehow, though Fakir wasn't sure how he knew—but he did know—that she blamed it all on herself.

"It's not your fault, Ahiru," he whispered, running a hand through his dark hair, "I just... when I really miss you, I write stories."

Fakir wasn't surprised to see the little _'huh?' _face that she sent his way. _'I know you write stories, Fakir. All the time. And you write some about me, but you write a lot about the townspeople. And besides... I'm right here.'_

"You're here physically, Ahiru," he realized that he was responding to the conversation that had originated in his mind, and shook his head, "What I mean... Ahiru, is that I write a lot of stories on paper. Some are about you, yes, but I'm afraid of the consequences of a story with enough power to bring you back to your human form."

The little duck's beak opened slightly, revealing that she had understand. Ahiru winked at him. '_Can you make me sexier?'_

Fakir smiled fondly, "And... when I miss you this much, I'm tempted to write those stories. But I always have to remember the possible catastrophes that could follow. Please understand, Ahiru."

_'Of course I understand dumb ass.'_

Fakir didn't need any expression on the little duck's face to know what she was thinking. She was just that beautiful.

"So, when I get to this point that I miss you so terribly... I write stories in my head. As if we're having conversations. I try to keep you alive in my spirit, Ahiru, so that I'm not the only one that remembers what a beautiful person you really are."

Ducks' eyes collect moisture, but Fakir knew she was crying this time. It was real.

"Don't cry, Ahiru," he picked her up, held her close to his heart, "I'll stay by your side, Ahiru, forever."

And she felt herself wrap around him, everything that she was sinking into his hair and skin and pores. She allowed herself a dreamy sigh, allowed the sigh to crack near the end, allowed the tears to follow. She let herself dissolve, and felt all the more whole. And she looked into Fakir's eyes and saw the same conflagration of emotions swimming in her own.

She felt her spirit wrap around his own, metaphysically bonding their ties together.

And they both felt uniquely whole.

"It's dangerous, not knowing your role...

But it's nirvana, finding the one true place you belong."

* * *

Author's Notes:

And suddenly the concept of the double-helix makes sense! Eureka!

Erm... it's about 10:40, I've taken an ambien recently (if you've ever had one... you know my problem) and I'm about as wonked as I can be without having fallen face first in bed. But I was determined to finish this and post it! By the way... what is it with me, writing all these Tutu fics when I'm this fucked up? Damn, someone needs to stop giving me drugs.

Soooo, for all my extra effort, send some love my way!


	8. Chapter 8

Cooking Lessons

A Princess Tutu fic by Shooby

_Fakir and Ahiru bond over a ruined meal._

* * *

Fakir scowled as he stared into the mess before him. 

"What's wrong?"

He poked at the substance irritably, blanching when it bubbled and emitted a terrible smell he couldn't quite place.

"Fakir?"

Oh, that's right. Rotten cabbage and week-old fish. He hadn't smelled that since the last time Ahiru had attempted to cook anything.

"Is there something wrong with it?" Ahiru poked at her own meal, not quite willing to taste it herself, "I don't understand, I got the recipe from Ebine-san. It should be good."

_It's not the recipe, idiot. _"Maybe you cooked it too long."

Ahiru shook her head.

"Not long enough?"

Another shake.

"Well then, how long did you cook it?"

"I didn't," Ahiru smiled, "The recipe said to serve it fresh."

Fakir grimaced. "Fresh from the oven, Ahiru. Didn't you notice the directions to cook it, as well?"

"Um," Ahiru scratched the back of her neck, embarrassed, "I guess I skipped that part."

"Why don't we go visit Ebine-san?" Fakir asked, scraping the contents on his plate into the sink unapologetically.

"Oh, OK," Ahiru followed Fakir's example, smiling with relief, "Maybe I'll see if she has a new recipe for me to try."

"Better not," Fakir said suddenly, imaging the terrible things that the little duck could do to his pantry, "We'll just... eat out. Every night."

"Every night?" Ahiru asked, her eyes glimmering.

"Every single night," Fakir assured her, grabbing their coats off a hook near the door and helping Ahiru into her own.

"Oh, thank goodness," Ahiru opened the door, letting a blast of cool autumn air into the cottage, "I really can't stand cooking, Fakir."

Fakir stopped while putting on his coat, a contemplative look ghosting over his features.

"Fakir?"

"On second thought," the writer closed the door and took off his coat, forcing Ahiru to do the same, "Let's stay in."

"What about dinner?" Ahiru asked mournfully, her stomach picking that moment to gurgle loudly.

"We'll cook," Fakir answered and smiled at her fondly, "Together."

"Cook? But, Fakir, I'm really very terrible at cooking and wouldn't it be better if we--" she felt a cool hand over her lips, cutting off her rambling. She blushed and looked into Fakir's eyes.

"I'll teach you, dummy," he took his hand away from her mouth and put it to use pulling various items from the cupboard, "You can't just give up on something, Ahiru. Even if you're terrible at it, you should keep working on it until you improve." He glanced at her, and motioned for her to clean off the dishes that her own meal had been placed on. "Even if you only improve the slightest bit, you'll know that your efforts have been rewarded. Do you understand?"

Ahiru looked up from her task at the sink, a strand of her hair blowing into her face. "Yes!" she exclaimed. She looked happy. Fakir knew she wasn't the kind of girl to just give up.

"Besides," he took out new pots and pans to begin their meal, "If you didn't give up on ballet, even with your incredible lack of natural talent and inability to learn even the simplest moves, why should you give up on something that might actually benefit us if you improve?"

Fakir dodged the dish that flew at his head.

"Or, maybe we'll go to Ebine-san's after all."

* * *

Author's Notes 

(shrug) Honestly, I don't know. I wanted a cutesy scene between the two of them. And I kind of wanted to mention a minor character, since I mainly focus on Ahiru and Fakir. Hope you enjoyed.


	9. Chapter 9

"Blanket Scenario"

A Princess Tutu fiction written by Shooby

_Inspired by the famous "blanket scenario," just a cute scene with Fakir and Ahiru._

* * *

"Come over here."

"No."

"Come _here_."

"No."

"I said _come here_, idiot. It's cold," Fakir scowled, shifting to try and find better purchase on the mound of dry dirt.

Ahiru sniffed. "I'm f-fine," she said, teeth chattering. She sat, huddled with her knees pressed against her chest, her arms running up and down her legs, attempting warmth. The errant piece of pink hair that gave her such a duck-like appearance was currently plastered to the side of her face with rain, the eye peeking out gloomily at the ex-knight.

"You're not fine," Fakir insisted, "You're wet and shivering. Now stop being such a damn baby and _come here_."

Sighing, Ahiru complied and placed her body close to Fakir's, sighing as his arms and the blanket encircled her.

Fakir shivered. Ahiru was _freezing_. "Stupid bird," he muttered, "You're going to get sick."

"Mmm," Ahiru cuddled closer, "You'll keep me warm, won't you, Fakir?"

Heat rushed to Fakir's face. "I-I-" he attempted, flabbergasted. Did the girl even realize what she was saying? "Don't say such stupid things," he finally muttered, but he took her small hands in his larger ones, holding them softly to warm them.

Ahiru yawned loudly, pulling her hand from Fakir's grasp to cover her mouth. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Go to sleep, dummy," Fakir forcefully pushed her head against his shoulder, "I'll wake you when the rain lets up."

"Mmm," Ahiru yawned again, smiling against Fakir's flesh, "Thank you, Fakir."

The two sat there, comfortable and warm despite the heavy rainfall. And though so few words had been spoken, and so few emotions clarified, it seemed as though the air was more fresh and easier to breathe. Fakir allowed himself to lean into Ahiru a bit more, wrapping his arm around her waist. They had been friends a good while now. They had both gone through great transformations, but had remained close no matter the form either took. Fakir loved Ahiru whether she was a girl, Princess Tutu, a duck, or a girl yet again, as fate would have it.

Though, Fakir had to chuckle, he could no longer believe in fate.

And Ahiru had accepted him as a knight, as a storyteller, as a friend.

They had endured so much together, had experienced such unique things and had such bizarre and interesting stories to tell.

Yet, despite all of this, Fakir felt as though this moment had been something he had been waiting for-- a moment that would define their future relationship and the people they would grow to be.

And Fakir was glad that that morning, when he had suggested a picnic, that Ahiru had insisted upon bringing a blanket to sit upon.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I actually just wanted to comment on my use of "Ahiru" as opposed to the English "Duck." Honestly, there are only two reasons I use Ahiru as her name: the first being that when I first began reading Princess Tutu fanfiction, the authors I read used Ahiru, and the second being that I find it easier to differentiate between Duck the character and duck the animal.

I hope you enjoy reading these, because I know I love writing them.


	10. Chapter 10

"The End"

A Princess Tutu fiction written by Shooby

_There's always a loser at the end of a story. Fakir wasn't sure if it was him._

* * *

It was a bittersweet ending and, if he were truthful to himself, one better left unwritten.

"Why, she's beautiful, Fakir!" his companion boomed behind her handkerchief, "Why ever did you hide her from us?"

Fakir looked fondly at the girl nibbling at appetizers, laughing politely at a young man's attempts at humor. "She had been quite busy," he replied, and then almost as an afterthought, "She is very beautiful."

XXX

The first thing that had confused her had been the sensation of cotton. It was not the first time that Ahiru had awoken on Fakir's bed, finding herself nestled in a cocoon of soft sheets. However, this time was different. This time her feathers didn't get stuck in the stitching, and her feet had somehow escaped her normally safe nest that Fakir built around her.

She opened her eyes slowly, carefully... and promptly screamed.

"What? What is it?" a man hurried into the room, his mouth pulled down in a hard frown, as though his face were accustomed to it. Laugh lines just as easily graced his face, and streaks of gray were claiming their territory atop his head, once full of deepest black hair. "Ahiru?" his concerned eyes found hers, and she squeaked. That made the man smile.

"Who?" her voice was coarse after so many years of unuse—just how much time had passed?--and she had to clear her throat more loudly than was polite in order to command her vocal chords. "Who are you?" she tried again, her voice a simple whisper.

The man's smile remained, but softened with sadness. "Ahiru, don't you recognize me?"

XXX

"How is your granddaughter, Fakir?" the woman's husband appeared at her elbow with two glasses of Merlot, offering her one.

"She is well, thank you," Fakir responded automatically, "She is becoming accustomed to our culture, and I have no doubt she will fit in quite well within Kinkan Town."

The girl laughed suddenly, blushing at something the boy had said. Fakir's face instantly burned with anger.

The man laughed, "They will be taken away from us soon or later, won't they, Fakir? Ah, but it is quite difficult to let them go. Yet we mustn't keep them tied to us forever."

No, Fakir thought, we mustn't tie them to us forever.

XXX

"No," Ahiru shook her head adamantly after moments of contemplation, "I'm sorry, but I don't know you." She looked around, frightened, "Where is Fakir? Fakir will tell me what's going on."

"Ahiru," she looked back at him, heat rising in her face at the way he looked at her. "Ahiru, I am Fakir."

"But you're old!" The girl promptly blushed at her outburst. "I mean," she tried again, "You've grown up, Fakir, and I haven't."

Fakir ran a hand through his hair and sat beside Ahiru on the bed. He gently pried the sheets from Ahiru's clenched hands that had turned white from the effort. "I've been writing your story for a long time, Ahiru," Fakir said softly, not quite able to meet her eyes.

The girl wrapped the sheets a bit tighter around her body. "But you did it," Ahiru smiled, "You made me a girl again."

"A girl, Ahiru," Fakir smiled sadly.

XXX

"How are her parents?" the woman asked, "Rue, wasn't it? And Siegfried?"

Fakir managed to pull his gaze from the girl, where she sat so comfortably with an overenthusiastic boy. "They are well, ma'am. They continue to work for betterment of their land." Fakir thought that this, among all his lies, was the most truthful. Mytho and Rue lived in the Land of Stories, and with each story they helped tell, they brought happiness and hope to the children that read about their adventures.

"You are so generous, Fakir," the couple's daughter had appeared, lowering her eyes coyly when he turned his attention to her, "To take in your granddaughter and raise her."

"I love her," Fakir responded simply.

XXX

"I couldn't age your human body, Ahiru," Fakir continued, "You'll have to age with time, like a normal human girl."

"Normal," Ahiru whispered the word, "Human girl." Her face split into a wide grin. "Fakir!" and she threw her arms around the man, her lack of clothing forgotten.

With the touch that he had longed for for so long, Fakir could not make himself remind her.

"Thank you, Fakir," Ahiru sniffled as she leaned back, returning the sheet around her body.

"You're welcome, Ahiru."

Ahiru continued to smile broadly. "What now?"

XXX

The girl continued to laugh and flirt naturally with the young man, unaware of how her clumsy movements and sudden bouts of laughter transformed her into a beautiful young woman, who was very much desirable. She brushed her hand against her cheek in surprise, pulled on her braid in irritation, and puffed her cheeks in exasperation. She blushed occasionally, and smiled shyly at the young man.

She was a young girl, Fakir had to remind himself.

"So what do you suppose you'll do with her?" the daughter brought his attention back to his guests, "I mean, I must assume she will be here for quite a while."

"Yes," Fakir agreed. There had never been any question. "She will attend the ballet program at Kinkan Academy."

The girl pursed her lips. "She seems a bit... clumsy," she tried politely.

"Yes," Fakir agreed again.

The girl suddenly appeared beside him. "Aldrik and I are going to go walk in the gardens," she smiled up at him so brightly, "I just wanted to let you know."

"OK," Fakir leaned down, placing his hand on her head fondly, "Be careful."

"I will," Ahiru leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Ahiru left with Aldrik, and almost as an afterthought the man said, again, with the authority of truth: "We mustn't keep them tied to us forever."


End file.
